Captured by a Laird

by Loretta Laird

  “What is preventing my nuptials?” Stref Harris’ voice boomed out across the hall.

  Val replied, his voice equal in volume and tone. “Our chief is worth the wait!”

  The crowd roared in approval and clapped as Lena walked more steadily than she felt inside, towards her future.

  Chapter Fifteen

  Stref looked along the hall. He was unsure what the hold-up had been, but now Lena walked towards him with slow graceful steps his heart was racing. He took in every detail of her appearance. The unruly curls had been tamed into long ringlets that cascaded down her back and shoulders like a foaming waterfall. Her eyes had been lined with the dark chalky stick that women favoured, giving them a smoky look. Her cheeks had a natural hue that had no need for the red stain that some women wore, and for that he was glad. Her natural beauty needed no enhancements. He remained unconvinced about the plaid, preferring the vibrant greens of his own clan. It mattered not, as she would soon be draped in his own cloth making her his. A small thrill sparked through him as his thoughts turned to the night that lay before them. Stref prided himself on his stamina, and he felt sure that the clan chief of Rwenor would be glad to be a Harris by the morning. The thought of how he would convince her brought a devilish smile to his handsome face.

  As Lena came up alongside him, Stref Harris inhaled her scent. She still smelled as she had when he had plucked her from the fragrant water, of the lavender and mint that was customary to add to the bath of a bride. Lavender represented the calm tranquillity with which a bride should face her day, and the mint added a freshness that made the skin tingle in anticipation. Also used as a salve for unwilling wives, its properties were well known among the highland folk.

  Stref’s hand shook slightly as he reached for the smaller hand of Lena. Hers trembled too and was as cold as ice to the touch. Unconsciously, Stref rubbed his thumb over the contours of her palm, trying to bring some life back to it. Lena looked up at him and smiled. He smiled back, delighted by the freckles that graced her sun-kissed cheeks that seemed to dance with her joy. He vowed at once to ensure that smile was present at much more regular intervals in the future.

  The holy man held up his hands with a dramatic flair to silence the murmuring assembly.

  “We are gathered,” he began. “To join not just the hearts of two, but the lives of many…”

  “Fire!” screamed a hysterical voice from the back of the room.

  A gasp rose up as a blackened woman ran through the crowd.

  “Burning! My home is burning!” She stopped in front of Lena and fell down to her knees, clutching at the skirt of her laird.

  “Guards!” called Stref, fury alive in his eyes.

  He leaned down to pull the woman from the stained gown of his bride.

  “Leave her,” Lena’s voice was dangerously low and Stref retracted his hand at once.

  He motioned for the approaching guards to stand down. Paused and still, the scene seemed to freeze for a split second until chaos took reign.

  “Gone!” sobbed the distraught woman. “My home and so many more.”

  Lena crouched down to place a comforting arm around the sobbing form that had crumpled at her feet.

  “Ssssh now, Mary. Tell me what happened.”

  “They came like the very devil himself. They rode upon us with screams and curses, knocking the men to the ground and trampling the children with the hooves of their beastly mounts. The fire rose up and took hold quickly. Nothing remains.”

  “Who?” Lena asked.

  “They wore the plaid of Harris, just like those sent to protect us.” Mary stood now and scanned the room with a look of rage across her charcoal face. “You!” she screamed as she pointed to Stref. “You dared to call us all here then burn our homes, leaving us at your ruthless mercy.”

  Angry shouts rose from around the room and the metallic sounds of weapons being drawn filled Stref’s ears. Desperation filled his heart as he turned to face the woman with whom he was just about to share his vows.

  She believes it. “Go to the chamber,” Stref’s voice came out in a desperate rasp. “We will talk soon.”

  Lena stared at him. Her mouth fell open in astonishment. “Go to the chamber?” she echoed as if speaking from a place far away—a place where he was no longer permitted to be. Her eyes flashed with fury. “I will go to my people.”

  Turning, Lena called out, “People of Rwenor. We will not remain here.”

  The cheer that followed her words sank into Stref’s heart like a stone. He had lost her. She was about to leave and he could not do a thing to prevent it. He knew he had given no such order to burn, but could he be sure that his men felt the same. Until he could discover the truth he had no choice but to allow her to leave.

  Turning away, Stref barked sharp orders at his men. Immediately, they fell back from their positions at the door, allowing the clan of Rwenor with their beloved leader and protector, to leave.

  Chapter Sixteen

  Tired, hungry, and totally exhilarated, Lena returned to her humble dwelling. She had raced her mount as hard as it would go as she left the raiding party that she had just foiled. Watching them turn and flee had been the most satisfying part of her day. The presence of Green Bow and the ominous golden eagle had once again filled the hearts of rival lairds with fear. Lena threw back the heavy green hood and shook her hair free. As it usually did, dark tresses tumbled over her back and hung in enviable waves down her scantily-clad shoulders.

  Since leaving Harris lands some months earlier, Lena had thrown herself wholeheartedly into outwitting the relentless raiders that now invaded her lands. There had been no further incidents of burning, and Lena and her men had attributed that to the glorious return of Green Bow as defender of Rwenor. Those that thought the champion had moved on, had been sorely mistaken and returned to their crofts with arrow wounds to prove his wrath.

  Val had expressed his concern numerous times. He was shocked at the pale hue of Lena’s face and the dark circles that were now her constant companion. He knew she carried a burden of guilt for the horrors they faced since the night of the ill-fated wedding. Arriving at the small cluster of homes that had been the target, the stench of burnt flesh had hung ominously in the air. Mary had been one of only two survivors. The other had been a small, wide-eyed girl of around three. She had sat next to the barely recognisable carcass of a dog, and was found rocking the charred remains in her arms and singing softly to them. It had taken two of Lena’s strongest men, and her best cajoling to wrench the girl from her pet. Despite the love and attention of the entire croft, the girl had not spoken a word since that day, some months before. She had become to Rwenor, the symbol of all they had lost.

  All were enemies again. None were to be trusted. The age-old culture of war had returned to the people of high and low lands. Neighbour turned against neighbour, and alliances were forgotten. Lena had donned her old attire and rode again as Green Bow. She threw all she had into re-establishing the fear and respect the name had once demanded.

  Lena allowed herself no time to grieve the loss of Stref Harris. She blamed him for taking her from where her duty lay. She blamed him for the wrath of Haigh and, if she was honest, blamed him for stealing her heart.

  Haigh’s wrath was relentless. When he could not attack her lands, he would strike at the other small crofts that surrounded Rwenor, crying out the name of Green Bow as his mercenaries set alight homes and raped the women. Crofts that had once shared companionship with Rwenor, now despised them. Frustrated at the lack of justice, Lena tried in vain to gain audiences with other lairds.

  A short, sharp knock on her door brought Lena’s thoughts back to the present.

  “Enter,” she called.

  Val’s form filled the space where the door had been.

  “Come in,” Lena invited her old friend warmly.

  “We must seek an ally,” Val opened without the need for formalities. “The time has come to unite against Haigh. Alone we can only just h
old him at bay—together we can defeat him and end this.”

  “But I have tried to unite. None will entertain the idea. Haigh has threatened any who side with us to vengeance beyond their worst nightmares.”

  “Then we find one who does not fear him,” Val hesitated in his suggestion. His eyes darted to Lena’s then looked quickly away.

  “Never!” she spat. “I will not go to him for help. Has he once offered to assist us? Has he ridden to our aid? He did not even follow me on our wedding day,” Lena blurted out the last part then felt the frustratingly familiar moisture pooling in her eyes.

  “He was wrong, lass, but he has his pride. Go to him and offer an alliance.”

  “I can’t.” Lena shook her head.

  “Then Fogert is our only choice. He alone holds the men and the power to defeat Haigh.”

  “Fogert?” Lena mused. “I admit I have been thinking the same.”

  “I do not trust him though,” Val warned. “He may make a more dangerous friend than Haigh is a foe.”

  “A chance we may have to take,” Lena said.

  It was agreed that at first light, a small contingent of men would accompany Lena to an audience with Fogert. Val left urging Lena to get some rest.

  As soon as she was alone, Lena lay on top of her bed staring unblinkingly up at the beamed roof. Stref’s face danced tauntingly in front of her. Why had he forsaken her? Why had he not come? Moving a hand over her slightly rounder stomach, Lena knew that time was running out for her. She could ride and shoot her arrows true now, but for how much longer would her body allow her to push it to the limits? Lena feared the sensations that ransacked her now. Her own mother had been taken by the curse that seemed to eat her alive, sucking every ounce of life and strength from her as it slowly devoured her. It had killed her from the inside out, and Lena feared it may have taken hold within her. Her stomach seemed to dance with the disease, fluttering as it grew within her. Her eyes were rimmed with black and her energy sapped from her, more and more each day.

  Lena took heart that a least Fogert would not want her like Haigh and Harris had. He had a wife who was known as a beauty around the Highlands. Lena hoped that her rich arable lands would suffice as her bargaining tool. Fogert was plagued with a rocky landscape that made growing a variety of produce impossible. If her last act could be to facilitate peace for her clan; then her life would have been worthwhile. Feeling at peace for the first time in a long while, Lena, with her hand still resting protectively across her stomach, allowed the luxury of sleep to overcome her.

  Chapter Seventeen

  Dawn broke through the closed shutters of Lena’s home. She awoke feeling somewhat refreshed and made the final preparations for her journey to Fogert. Soon, her cloak was fixed into place and her bow was slung into its position over her shoulder. Outside, the men who had been chosen for their bravery and skill to accompany her, waited on their horses. Lena swung into her saddle and called out a cheery wave to Val who had come to witness her departure.

  “Make the arrangements and return soon,” Val instructed. “Do not linger there. I have no trust for Fogert.”

  “I will,” Lena reassured him.

  The ride was hard and, upon their arrival, Lena was almost falling from her mount with fatigue. They were met at a large gate by two bearded men who scowled at them fiercely and indicated with their swords to a large doorway across an immaculate garden.

  As they approached, the door swung open and Fogert stood there. His legs were placed in a wide stance. His hands were firmly planted on his hips and his ample gut thrust out before him. A large smile adorned his face, although it did not quite reach his small, piggy eyes with which he regarded the woman flanked by her burly guards.

  “The descriptions do not do you justice, my dear,” Fogert greeted Lena, reaching out his hands to pull her into an unwelcome embrace.

  Lena stiffened as he placed a wet, jowly kiss upon her cheek.

  “Thank you for seeing us, Laird,” Lena spoke respectfully. “We are here to discuss an alliance.”

  “Not so fast. Not so fast,” boomed Fogert. “Come in and share my hospitality. We have so few visitors in these trying times of mistrust.”

  Gesturing to the open door, he ushered Lena and her men through into a richly-ornate room. The room was hung with colourful paintings depicting various scenes of men on horses and one large portrait of a soft-eyed woman with tumbling tresses of blonde hair. Her fragile appearance drew Lena’s attention, as did the sad haunting look in her watery-blue eyes.

  “My wife, Sarah,” Fogert explained, watching the direction of Lena’s gaze. “She will join us shortly.”

  Lena looked to the furnishings of the room. In sharp contrast to the halls she had observed lately Fogert’s dwelling resembled a palace with its splendour. The chairs were padded with a floral fabric, their frames twisting into intricate designs and etched with gold. A large table laid up with cutlery and covered vessels took centre stage.

  “I thought you may be hungry,” Fogert said. “I have taken the liberty of putting on a spread.”

  Lena’s men looked at her with dismay. They had been warned by Val not to trust Fogert and now he offered to feed them fare that may be laced with poison.

  “You are wise to be cautious of me.” Fogert seemed amused. “But if I wanted you dead, you would not have made it into my home. Now, let us eat.”

  The group look their seats around the table just as an exquisite woman entered. All eyes turned and watched her glide across the room. A small smile played at the corners of her mouth as if she took great delight in the scrutiny of the gathered throng. Lena was transfixed. The woman was petite and graceful with a lush mane of golden hair. Her pale skin seemed to glow under the watchful eyes of the red-blooded men who observed her arrival.

  “My wife, Sarah,” Fogert said as he pulled a chair out in a gentlemanly way.

  Sarah looked around the table and smiled at each eager face. He eyes finally alighted on Lena who received a smile that made her think she was the only one in the room. Lena found herself smiling back, taken at once with the small woman.

  Throughout the meal, Lena tried to steer the conversation towards the terms of an alliance. Fogert foiled her at every turn, sticking instead to grazing lands, the weather, and recent government legislation on farmed goods. Frustrated at his lack of cooperation, Lena turned to her hostess with a scowl.

  “Goodness, that is a look that would turn a man’s stomach,” Sarah teased, leaning forward across the table so that the two of them were locked in a private moment of sisterhood.

  “I have no interest in how a man’s stomach works,” Lena snapped. “Sorry,” she added with remorse. “I just wanted to discuss an alliance, not make small talk about farm lands.”

  “A thing I will share with you about my husband,” Sarah said in a low whisper. “He likes to be in control of a situation. Your coming here has made him nervous. He craves the lands that make Rwenor so rich, but fears the reprisals that Haigh may inflict upon our own lands. He is a greedy man and will try to find a way to own you and your land. To beat him you must outwit him.”

  Lena pondered on these words as she slowly chewed the tender meat that had been served to her.

  “What does he seek from me?” Lena asked.

  “Control. He wants you to accept his authority as Laird. He has heard of your match with Harris and how close you came to a union. That worries him. He seeks to gain an allegiance from you today.”

  “I could never accept him as my Laird,” Lena spoke with passion. “Rwenor is free. We serve no one.”

  “Then maybe you had a wasted trip,” Sarah said kindly.

  Lena’s heart sank. She wanted to protect her people from Haigh and Harris, but could not turn over her croft to Fogert. She watched him eat, watched as meat juices dripped from his wide chin down onto his garments, watched as he rubbed a fat hand across his face and licked the remnants away. Lena shuddered. She should not have come. Her men had lef
t Rwenor to bring her here for nothing. Rwenor was not as well defended as it may have been, because she had chosen to ride and bargain with a selfish and greedy laird. Lena cursed herself and vowed to depart as soon as the meal had concluded.

  “Do not torment us by keeping yourselves huddled up together,” Fogert called to the two women. “We seek your company too.”

  Sarah turned a gracious smile to her husband, and Lena turned around to face her men.

  “To the two most beautiful women in the Highlands today.” Fogert lifted his cup towards his wife and drank deeply.

  Lena, who had had enough, rose from her chair. She stood for a second, making ready to call her men and depart, before a pain coursed through her body, causing her to crumple to the ground. Writhing, she gripped her stomach and doubled over in agony.

  “Poison!” roared Tiny, the biggest of her men, drawing his sword and facing Fogert with a murderous look in his eye.

  All around the room, weapons were unsheathed as men glanced nervously from one to the other awaiting the imminent battle.

  Sarah stood calmly in the midst of the furore. “Stand down. Poison is not the cause of her pain. She carries a child. I saw it as soon as I set eyes upon her. The ride here must have tired her beyond her endurance. She will rest here until she is well.”

  Summoning a maid, Sarah gave a series of quick orders that saw her scurrying away only to return a few moments later with a tall, well-built youth. He plucked Lena from the floor and took her from the room in his arms.

  The men of Rwenor looked at the retreating figure forlornly. Tiny attempted to follow but was restrained by Fogert’s words.

  “We will care for your laird here. Return to Rwenor to defend your lands. I will return her when she is well. Only then will we converse about an alliance. You have my word as a highlander that she will come to no harm.”

  Chapter Eighteen

  Deeply cocooned under a feather down quilt, Lena allowed Sarah’s words to sink in. Her hand traced a gentle line over her slightly protruding stomach as the reality of truth settled upon her.